


'neath the love-light gleam

by Pandelion



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alpha!Ichigo, First Kiss, M/M, Omegaverse, christmas is for lovers, except not because it's tokyo and there's not much snow, flirting via scarf and scent, omega!grimmjow, walking through a winter wonderland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28007163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandelion/pseuds/Pandelion
Summary: Christmas is for lovers and both Nel and Yuzu think their brothers have spent long enough alone. Grimmjow and Ichigo don’t entirely agree, but a chance meeting might change their minds.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 13
Kudos: 78
Collections: GrimIchi Secret Santa Exchange 2020





	'neath the love-light gleam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [metropoliszone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/metropoliszone/gifts).



> This is a Christmas gift for metropoliszone for a GrimmIchi Secret Santa! I hope this fits your hopes for something fluffy! <3

The air is cooler outside and Grimmjow takes a deep breath before he turns to lean against the wall, digging out a cigarette and lighting up in quick, practiced motions. Nel is going to kill him when she finds him, but it’s worth the peace and quiet for now.

The muffled noise from inside gets louder for a moment, a dozen conversations competing with the club’s music to spill out into the night for as long as it takes the door to shut again. Someone going in or someone leaving; Grimmjow doesn’t bother turning his head to look.

“Hey, can I get a light?”

Grimmjow glances sideways at that, only half looking at the guy walking over, cigarette already in hand.

“...Sure.”

He offers his lighter and the guy leans over, breathes the fire in before standing straight again, breathing out in a warm cloud.

“Thanks. Been trying to quit, but…” Vague gesture with the cigarette at the club door.

Grimmjow snorts. He understands that perfectly well. “Yeah.”

A moment of silence, then… “Didn’t see you inside earlier.”

Grimmjow slants another look at the guy, who’s leaning against the wall now, a few feet away. Almost as tall as him, hair that looks orange in the stark light from the streetlamp, eyes that are dark in shadow, a scarf too lumpy to be store-bought looped around his neck, jacket open like it’s not barely above freezing out, long fingers bare around the cigarette. Attractive, in that lanky, messy hair sort of way that Grimmjow likes. 

Then Grimmjow takes a breath that isn’t smoke and almost chokes. 

_Alpha_.

“Didn’t see you, neither,” he says, tries to make it sound like he wouldn’t have _wanted_ to see him even if he had. He glances over again, though, and yeah, pity he’s an alpha because physically, he’s still attractive.

The guy snorts softly, but doesn’t say anything further for a few minutes. Grimmjow’s cigarette is almost gone and he taps off the ash, takes one last drag before he drops it, grinds it out into the slush of days-old snow.

“Going back in?”

Grimmjow shrugs. “Probably get yelled at if I don’t,” he admits.

“Ah. Friends or family?”

“Family.” Grimmjow tells himself that he’s lingering only to put off going back in. It’s definitely not because this alpha’s easy on the eyes and smells like smoke and spice and something that curls a spark of heat in his belly. Fucking biology. “Little sister.”

The alpha salutes him with the cigarette. “Same,” he says. “Something about how Christmas is for lovers and you’ve been alone too long, nii-san,” he says, voice shifting into what Grimmjow assumes is a mimicry of the mentioned sister. He continues in his normal voice, wry. “We were supposed to be going to karaoke tonight.”

Grimmjow looks up at the sign for the club. It’s very much not a karaoke bar. “Well,” he says. “It says Thursdays are open mic nights. Should have come last night.”

That gets a grin, bright and lopsided. “Yeah, guess so.” Another cigarette rubbed into the snow and the alpha’s pushing off the wall, taking a couple steps until he’s standing in front of Grimmjow. He doesn’t seem bothered by having to look up at Grimmjow, but Grimmjow still kind of hates the way he seems so casually confident, sure of himself in a way that owes nothing to true strength. Alphas are all the same.

Grimmjow’s not going to back down, though; he’s never let an alpha intimidate him before and he’s not about to start now. No matter that the guy hasn’t even tried anything; Grimmjow _knows_ alphas. He squares his shoulders, makes use of the fact that he’s tall and broad, tips his chin up the barest amount - challenge, not submission.

“I’m Kurosaki Ichigo,” the alpha says, holding out his hand, and Grimmjow blinks. He’s not used to alphas wanting to shake his hand. Most usually want to move right into their arm around his shoulders or better, around his waist, something that could be construed as a claim. A few want to punch him when he calls them on their shit. A handshake is almost nothing.

“...Grimmjow Jaegerjaques,” he says, reluctantly polite, taking the alpha’s - taking Ichigo’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, Grimmjow,” Ichigo says and his hand doesn’t linger, pulls back to slip into a pocket like that’s all he wanted. “Hey, so, you don’t actually want to go back in, do you?”

Grimmjow thinks about the people inside, the hopeful omegas and the posturing alphas, and it’s almost physically revolting, the idea of going back in to let more alphas try and tempt him into letting them coddle him. Ichigo seems to read his answer on his face, mouth curving into an amused smile.

“Yeah, figured as much. I don’t really want to go back in, either.” He rocks on his heels, bites his lip, lets out a noisy breath before looking up at Grimmjow again. “We’re only a few blocks away from the shopping center,” he says. “I like to go see the lights every year and I’ve been busy, haven’t made it over yet. Wanna come with?”

As ploys to get him alone go, it’s pretty bald-faced, Grimmjow thinks. The shopping center’s a public space, sure, but at this time of night, the usual crowds will be long gone. Taking a walk to look at Christmas lights, alone with an alpha? It’s the sort of thing Nel would think is _romantic_. He’s tempted to turn the offer down just for that.

...But his alternative is a club crowded with single omegas and alphas desperate to not be lonely for the holidays. He’s pretty sure that’s worse than going for a walk with a strange alpha to look at some lights.

“Yeah, sure,” he says and almost immediately regrets it when Ichigo smiles again, wide and brighter than before and enough to crinkle the skin around his eyes just so. Grimmjow’s stomach does something funny at that and he scowls to cover it, shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Cool, great. Let’s, uh, we can head this way,” Ichigo says, some of that cool confidence lost in excitement.

“You really like these lights, huh?” Grimmjow asks, but he follows when Ichigo starts walking, making a point of moving to walk next to him, not the half step behind that most omegas default to. Ichigo just grins at him again.

“Yeah. I mean, I guess they’re just lights, but it’s always so...calming, to look at them,” he says. “And my mom used to take me when I was a kid, so they’re a bit nostalgic, too, I guess.”

“Wouldn’t you rather take your sister, then?” Grimmjow asks, because that would at least make sense. Asking a random omega he’d just met to do something that means something to him? Doesn’t make sense.

Ichigo shrugs, the scarf bunching up briefly around his cheeks. It’s a dark red and it kind of clashes with his hair. Grimmjow wonders if the sister made it, or maybe the mom.

“Yuzu likes the lights, but she’d probably cry if I took her to see them specifically,” he says. “Karin would claim to not care about any silly lights and refuse to go.”

“Two sisters, then.” Grimmjow doesn’t realize he said it out loud until Ichigo nods.

“Yeah. Twins. Four years younger than me.”

Grimmjow lifts an eyebrow. “You let your baby sister trick you into going to a singles mixer?” he asks. Ichigo’s cheeks turn pink over the edge of the scarf and it’s kind of fascinating.

“Oh, shut up,” he mutters and Grimmjow can’t help grinning.

“What a good older brother,” he teases.

He doesn’t see the shove coming, the solid pressure at his shoulder pushing him sideways until he stumbles into the street. “Oy! Fucker!”

But Ichigo’s grinning at him again and it’s still doing weird things to Grimmjow’s stomach. He bares his teeth in response, drifts back to his spot next to Ichigo, plots retaliation for when Ichigo is least expecting it.

“Like you’re one to talk, anyway,” Ichigo says. “I got tricked into going. What’s your excuse, huh?”

“Blackmail,” Grimmjow says, dry, and is still not prepared when the blinding grin comes back. Stupid stomach.

“Ah, fair enough,” Ichigo says as they turn onto the road the shopping center is on. 

Grimmjow’s never been one to stop and smell the roses, but he stops when Ichigo does, looking down the length of the street, at the strings of lights draped over windows and doors, wrapped around trees and poles. The lights reflect in glass and against the wet pavement, temporarily cleared of snow, and create a blurred effect that makes it seem as if the lights go on forever.

Even he can admit that it’s beautiful.

“I worry every year that they’ll change it too much,” Ichigo says after a few minutes of just standing there, looking. “But even though small parts change, it still feels the same.”

Grimmjow just hums, doesn’t really have anything to say to that. He’s never done something like this, gone walking just to see the sights. Walks have always been a means to an end.

But when Ichigo finally starts moving, Grimmjow keeps pace, hands stuffed into his pockets to keep them warm. They stroll down the sidewalk, occasionally passing a salaryman hurrying towards the nearest station or izakaya, but otherwise they’re alone in enjoying the holiday decorations.

The shopping center is more a giant amalgamation of shops, connected together over the span of half a dozen blocks and probably a couple blocks deep. When they reach the end of the decorated portion of the street, Ichigo turns and another street bedecked in lights stretches ahead of them.

“They just light up the whole thing?” Grimmjow asks, looking back behind them, then facing forward again.

“Something like that. There’s usually a tree and stuff inside, too, there’s a courtyard sort of space in there,” Ichigo says, waving a hand at the shopping center. “But I think it’s locked after sundown, I’ve never seen it at night.”

“Huh.”

They’re quiet for another few minutes before Ichigo reaches out, fingers curling around Grimmjow’s arm and tugging him to the side. “Hey, over here, this is my favorite part.”

Grimmjow stares at the point of contact, too surprised to pull away as Ichigo leads him over to the side. He’s not sure why Ichigo feels he’s allowed to touch Grimmjow, but it’s not… Well. Grimmjow doesn’t hate it, at least.

Ichigo doesn't seem to notice Grimmjow’s conflict, hand falling away but attention still focused on a particular patch of lights. Benches line a small alcove, separated from the sidewalk by a line of bushes and trees. There are a couple of tables, half covered in snow, and enough space for a couple of kids to play.

The lights make it cozy, inviting despite the time of night and the absence of other people. But the part that Ichigo is looking at is off to the side, almost lost against the other lights.

"They do different animals every year," Ichigo says, crouching in front of the three wireframe rabbits, their forms lit by more strings of light. "I think this is the second or third time I've seen rabbits. Last year they were bears."

Grimmjow looks at them, but they're just...wireframe rabbits. Not really anything special. Maybe they're more impressive to a kid, he reasons, and Ichigo's just caught up in the nostalgia. 

He knows better than to say that, though, and covers by crouching next to Ichigo and looking at him instead of at the rabbits. The lights are softer here, Ichigo’s hair washed out to a pale gold, and his eyes aren’t as dark as Grimmjow had originally thought. Probably a nice brown in normal lighting; they look almost gold now.

He’s still stupidly attractive and Grimmjow catches himself breathing in through his nose to try and catch his scent again. Fuck.

Grimmjow stands abruptly, taking a couple steps away to lean against the edge of one of the tables. His coat is long enough that he won’t end up with a wet line across his ass, at least.

After a moment, Ichigo joins him. “Sorry.”

Grimmjow waves off the rest of the apology. “Don’t be. I chose to come along,” he says. “Though I’m kind of regretting it, a little.” He waits just long enough to see confusion and disappointment flash over Ichigo’s face before adding, “My ears are fucking freezing.”

There’s a second of incomprehension, then exasperation followed by what Grimmjow thinks is mischief, quickly buried by determination.

“You can wear my scarf, then,” Ichigo says and before Grimmjow can process that, his vision is filled with dark red.

Then there’s soft, warm yarn against his neck, the barest weight on his shoulders, and Ichigo standing too close, hands lifted to arrange the scarf better.

“There, that should help,” he says and it’s too quiet, too gentle. Grimmjow doesn’t know how to deal with that, with soft words and soft hands and soft smiles. “Looks better on you anyway.”

He steps back, hands dropping from the scarf to hang at his sides for a second before he puts them in his pockets. Grimmjow is frozen, torn between punching Ichigo for getting so close and dumping the scarf into the snow so that he can run far, far away. He goes so far as to lift a hand to grip the scarf, but it’s still soft and warm and - 

Grimmjow presses his nose into the folds without thinking. It smells like Ichigo. Which, okay, of course it smells like him, but it’s a fuller, more concentrated version of what he’s been catching whiffs of for the last hour. Smoke from the cigarette, something spicy he can’t identify, traces of sweat and skin and detergent from being washed and worn for so long. And through it all, the thick musk of _alpha_.

Outside of the purely biological responses, Grimmjow has never been particularly drawn to the alpha scent. But here, mixed up in Ichigo’s scent, it’s almost...nice. It’s nice.

“Grimmjow?”

Oh. Right. Ichigo. The lights. The not-a-date walk. Grimmjow looks up, finds Ichigo too close again, something soft and heated in his expression.

“It looks good on you,” Ichigo says, slow, a little reluctant. “If...you can keep it, if you’d like.”

And Grimmjow’s brain might only be firing on two brain cells right now, but he’s working his way back up to full functionality. It’s finally registering that Ichigo gave him his scarf - just reached over and put it on Grimmjow like that’s something they do. Like he’s allowed to do that.

It’s not an arm around his shoulders, but it’s somehow even worse. Ichigo’s scent smeared against his neck, his jaw, a piece of him draped around Grimmjow’s throat, and it’s not - he doesn’t hate it. Doesn’t want to rip it off him and wash it all away, even though he thinks he probably _should_.

He knows alphas, after all. They want to control, to dominate, to _own_. Ichigo’s no different, no matter that he doesn’t mind looking up at Grimmjow or that he doesn’t care if Grimmjow walks next to him or ahead of him instead of behind. Never mind that his hand had been gentle when he reached out to touch Grimmjow.

Grimmjow’s been standing here too long, he realizes. If he was going to rip the scarf off, he should have done it before, when he realized what was happening. Now it’s too late and when he looks at Ichigo again, it feels like a statement he didn’t mean to make.

Ichigo’s watching him, eyes dark, still too close, looking like he wants to reach out again, like he’s waiting for something from Grimmjow.

“Whatever,” Grimmjow manages, turns to the side, leaves the little alcove behind. He can hear Ichigo follow after a couple of seconds and he’s tense, waiting for Ichigo to say something, anything, about what just happened.

The minutes drag by and nothing comes and Grimmjow slowly relaxes as they walk under the lights. It’s hard to stay tense, with soft light all around and his nose now permanently full of spice and heat.

The silence stays unbroken until they turn down the next lit-up street.

“You don’t have to keep wearing it, if you don’t want to,” Ichigo says. When Grimmjow glances at him, he’s staring down at the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, shoulders weirdly hunched.

Grimmjow sighs. What a weird alpha. “Nah,” he says, more casual than he feels. “It’s doing a pretty good job at keeping my ears warm. And my nose, too.” He looks away before Ichigo can catch him looking, but he can feel Ichigo’s attention like sunlight on the side of his face. 

Then Ichigo’s touching him again, fingers curling around his elbow, pulling him to a stop, turning him to face Ichigo. “I lied,” Ichigo says, low and a little rushed. “Earlier. When I said I hadn’t seen you inside the club. I lied.”

“What - “

“I did see you. Earlier. But you didn’t look like you wanted to be there at all and I didn’t - well. And then you left and I thought, maybe, maybe you’d be willing to give me a shot if I wasn’t just one of a dozen trying to catch your attention.”

Grimmjow’s not sure Ichigo could ever be just one of a dozen, but admittedly, he probably wouldn’t have stuck around long enough to find that out.

“Well,” he manages. “You weren’t exactly subtle about wanting to get me alone.”

Ichigo’s face goes pink and Grimmjow’s amused to see that it goes down his throat, too. The scarf had covered most of it before.

The scarf that he’s still wearing. Ichigo’s scarf.

Grimmjow’s not even mad about the lie - what does it really matter, after all, if Ichigo saw him inside or not and besides, he chose to come on this walk of his own free will. But now he’s got an alpha in front of him that not only looks good, but smells like everything Grimmjow didn’t know he wanted, and said alpha apparently wanted to talk to him enough that he did a really kind of terrible job at asking him out.

He’s wondering whether Ichigo thinks _he_ smells good when hands that aren’t his curl into the loops of his borrowed scarf.

The intent is broadcast from a mile away. Ichigo’s leaning in slow, eyes flicking from Grimmjow’s eyes down to his mouth and back, fingers flexing against soft yarn. There’s plenty of time for Grimmjow to lean back, to stop Ichigo, to do anything at all to discourage it.

He doesn’t do any of it.

Ichigo kisses him soft and tentative for all of half a second, just long enough to be sure of his welcome. Then he presses in, tilts his head, and the kiss goes from chaste and testing to hot and open and Grimmjow kind of loses time for a bit.

Ichigo kisses with confidence and skill and Grimmjow has half a second to hate whoever taught him before he gets caught up in reaping the benefits. The hands in the scarf shift up, cold fingers curling against his jaw, tipping him into a better angle. His own hands come up to clutch at Ichigo’s jacket, keeping him in place.

As cold as Ichigo’s fingers are, his mouth is just as hot, soft and slick against Grimmjow’s own chapped lips. There’s the barest scrape of teeth against his lower lip and he groans despite himself.

It’s been a while since he’s kissed someone with his clothes on and it’s...nicer than he remembers, though maybe that’s just Ichigo. Everything Ichigo has done has been nice and Grimmjow doesn’t get a whole lot of that. He’s starting to think maybe he’d like to hold onto it for a bit.

Fingers slide around the nape of his neck and Grimmjow shudders, tensing a little before it registers that they’re just there, not gripping or anything. Not trying to take control, just...there. Solid. Secure. Grimmjow lets himself relax into it, focus shifting back to kissing Ichigo.

At some point, Ichigo steps in or Grimmjow tugs until they’re chest to chest, the stupid scarf the bulkiest thing between them. Grimmjow slides his hands under Ichigo’s open jacket, finds out that he runs hot like a miniature nuclear reactor, presses his hands against thin t-shirt and lean muscle.

He forgets the lights, forgets the cold, forgets that they’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

Ichigo pulls back abruptly, laughing a little when Grimmjow chases his mouth. “Shit, hold on, hold on,” he manages, a little breathless. Grimmjow hums, tilts his head to bite along the line of Ichigo’s jaw. He’s vaguely aware of Ichigo pulling something out of a pocket, but it’s not until he hears Ichigo say, “Hey, Yuzu,” that he realizes why.

That’s the sister, he remembers, pulling away enough to watch Ichigo talk to her.

“Yeah, yeah. No, I just. Took a walk. I’m not far, I can be back in - twenty minutes? Yeah. I’ll see you soon.” He hangs up, stuffing the phone back into his pocket, leans up to kiss Grimmjow again, firm and fast. “Mixer’s over, apparently. Gotta head back.”

Grimmjow makes a face, but he can feel his own phone vibrating in his pocket now and it’s probably Nel, calling to figure out where he’d wandered off to. He ignores it; he’ll be back at the club soon enough.

“Yeah,” he agrees and doesn’t protest when he feels Ichigo’s hand at the small of his back, guiding him back the way they came. The hand falls away after a moment and he finds himself missing it.

The walk back to the club is quiet, but comfortable, the space between them less than it had been before. Just before they make the last turn, though, Ichigo pulls Grimmjow into the shadow of a building, turning and pressing up into another kiss. Grimmjow kisses back automatically, hands coming up to grip at Ichigo’s arms.

“Can I see you again?” Ichigo asks, low and soft, when they finally pull away from each other.

Grimmjow blinks. He hadn’t really let himself think past the moment, hadn’t considered that maybe this wasn’t limited to one night. “I - “

“Please,” Ichigo says and Grimmjow still hasn’t figured out a defense against soft words, soft hands.

“Okay,” he sighs, drops a hand to fish out his phone, swipes away the three missed calls from Nel, opens a new contact page with one thumb. “Give me your number.”

Ichigo enters his information, head bowed in the small space between them, and Grimmjow stares at the top of his head. He’d started this evening with the singular goal of going home as single as he’d left it.

He hadn’t expected Ichigo.

“There,” Ichigo says, lifting his head again and barely missing Grimmjow’s nose. “You’ll, uh, call me, maybe?”

He looks so unsure, like he thinks Grimmjow might not follow through, like he actually cares about seeing Grimmjow again, mouth twisted a little and cheeks a little pink.

Grimmjow scowls. “I’ll call,” he says, like it had been a dare.

Ichigo huffs, but he looks pleased at that and Grimmjow tucks his face into the folds of the scarf to hide the way his own cheeks go warm. It kind of backfires on him when he just gets a facefull of Ichigo’s scent, but at least his face is hidden now.

“C’mon, we don’t want to keep them waiting,” Ichigo says and Grimmjow nods instead of saying anything, follows him out and around the corner and into the light.


End file.
